


Four More Years of Jean Kirschtein

by ImagineCharlotte



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dorks, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Sorry Not Sorry, all happiness and rainbows, and weed, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:06:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineCharlotte/pseuds/ImagineCharlotte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Marco have been best friends since the sixth grade. Now in the midst of their senior year of high school, Jean has formed a habit of showing up at Marco's bedroom window in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four More Years of Jean Kirschtein

The crack of rock against glass jolted Marco out of a deep sleep-and his bed, and he landed with a heavy 'thud' on his bedroom floor. He grunted and rubbed his bottom as he got up. Another pebble hit his bedroom window. Marco yawned and stumbled over to the window, raising the blinds. Letting his eyes adjust to the moonlit neighborhood, he could make out a single silhouette in his front yard. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

  
“Psst! Marco! Are you up or what, dude?” Came the hoarse whisper from below. Marco promptly lifted his window before leaning out and gazing down at the other boy, the humid summer night air rushed in and blew his bangs away from his forehead.

  
“I'm up, Jean.” Marco yawned again, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. “What is it?”

  
“I've got a surprise for you!” Even in the dim lighting, Marco could see the boy's beaming smile from below.

  
It was the end of senior year of high school, and Jean had formed a weekly habit of arriving at Marco's window at an ungodly hour, beckoning the brunette to join him in his late night endeavors. The two had been glued at the hip since the third day of 6th grade, when Marco gifted to Jean a pencil with a Transformers design because he liked the younger boy's two-toned hair. Marco didn't dare let Jean find out how much he truly enjoyed sneaking out with him, just the two of them and the night ahead of them. It would only egg him on to do it more frequently, and he wanted to be awake during school the following day. Marco glanced over his shoulder at his alarm clock. It was already half-past one in the morning.

  
“Can't it wait til tomorrow after school?”

  
“Of course not!” Jean threw his hands in the air as if his best friend had asked him something unfathomable.

  
“Alright, alright!” Marco ran his fingers through his hair to give the illusion that he was even a sliver of being hesitant. “Just give me a minute.”

  
“Hurry!” Jean called, bouncing from one foot to the other with excitement.

  
Marco pulled back into his room with a scoff. Maybe if Jean didn't insist on waiting until the devil's hour he wouldn't have to 'hurry' in his partially unconscious state. He slid on a pair of jeans and pulled his sneakers on before opening his bedroom door. Standing idly for a few seconds, he listened for any indication of his parents being awake. When nothing but his father's resounding snore echoed from down the hall, he quietly shut the door and paced over to the window.

  
Guiding one long leg over the windowsill, Marco scooted himself out until his dangling foot touched the top of the first floor's small roof. He flung his other leg out and closed his window behind him. Next was the drainpipe. Marco shimmied his way down, jumping down the last few feet and bouncing on his feet as they made contact with the ground. He turned around to see Jean was immediately in his personal bubble, his grin all teeth.

  
“You're gonna shit yourself once you see how awesome this is.”

  
“Yeah, I noticed you say that every week.” Marco deadpanned.

  
Jean scoffed and grabbed his friend's hand, leading him down the street. “And I never let you down.”

  
Marco had to smile at that. Jean was right; every time he was that excited about something, Marco was sure to have a good time, too. The brunette stopped wondering weeks ago if it was Jean's surprises or the wide grin on his friend's face that made him so happy. Jean stopped four houses down, and whirled around to give Marco an eyebrow wiggle to accentuate his cocky grin. Marco stared at Jean, who held his arms out in a 'ta-da' gesture, and looked around.

  
“What am I looking at?”

  
Jean clicked his tongue and dug into his back pocket. He plucked out a small black rectangle with a single silver key dangling off of it. The rectangle blinked, and Marco jumped when the red corvette next to his friend beeped and lit up. The brunette gaped at the car, then at his best friend.

  
“You stole your dad's car?” Marco nearly shouted, covering his mouth when he realized how loud he was.

  
Jean stepped to the passenger side. “It's not stealing if he doesn't know it was only missing for a few hours.” He opened the door and bowed slightly, waving a hand for Marco to get in. “M'lady?”

  
Marco truly was hesitant this time. Jean had a license, but that was his father's car; his father's corvette made of plexiglass that could shatter if they got into any kind of accident. Not that Marco didn't trust Jean, his friend had driven his car plenty of times and was an exceptional driver. What Marco worried about even more was getting caught, whether it be by the officers for being out after the town's curfew or their parents.

  
“Sometime tonight would be fine.” Jean quirked a brow and straightened up.

  
Marco let out a long sigh and walked to the awaiting passenger's seat and Jean. He held up a finger of warning. “If we get into trouble we'll never hear the end of it.”

  
“We won't get caught, Marco, I promise.”

  
“I can't believe we're doing this.” Marco groaned as he got into the car.

  
“-And if we do, I'll take the blame.” Jean closed the door before Marco could say anything back.

  
Circling the car, Jean got in the driver's side and turned the key in the ignition. The car's engine roared to life and he looked over at Marco, grinning as wide as before. Marco rolled his eyes and buckled his seat belt, drawing a chuckle from Jean. The blonde tapped the gas pedal and the car jerked forward. Marco gripped his seat belt and sent glares like daggers over to the driver. Jean laughed and did it again, again, and again.

  
“Can we just go?” Marco said in a fed-up tone.

  
“Calm yourself, child.” Jean held back his laughter and turned up the radio to an alternative music station, finally driving smoothly down the street. Jean took a few turns until they were out of the neighborhood, pulling onto the freeway.

 

***

 

Marco had to admit to himself that he was a little giddy. He was with his best friend, windows down and music pumping in the summer air; it was like it was only the two of them. It was like a damn movie scene from the 90's, and it only got better (or worse, depending on your perspective). The song changed to The Walker by Fitz & the Tantrums, and Jean immediately belted out the lyrics, holding a closed fist to his mouth for his invisible microphone, then over to Marco to sing backup. They occasionally broke character and went into short bubbles of laughter, but made it through two more songs before giving it a rest and letting the singers do their job.

  
Jean reached back behind Marco's seat, and the brunette turned his head in time to get a nose-full of Jean's hair and scent. It was a mix of soap and musky cologne. Marco faced forward suddenly, his skin burning at his cheeks. When Jean faced forward, he dropped a small black zip-up bag on Marco's lap. It looked like something his mom stuffed all of her makeup in.

  
“Want to roll that for us?” Jean asked, looking over his shoulder as he merged into the next lane. Marco warily looked down at the bag before unzipping it and pulling out a roll of green papers and a small baggie, then immediately stuffed them back into the back and zipped it up.

  
“Nope, no way, Jean.”

  
“Marcooo!” Jean whined, the back of his head hitting the car seat.

  
“Not while you're driving your dad's car.” Marco scolded over the music.

  
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that I drive this car, and I very much intend to smoke in it.”

  
“Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

  
Jean chuckled and glanced over at his best friend. “Maybe.”

  
“Oh?” Marco reached over and ruffled the blonde's hair. “Does that explain this two-tone mop?”

  
“Ayy, lay off the 'do.” The blonde made no move to swat his hand away, and Marco took the opportunity to touch his hair for a second longer before pulling his hand back into his lap.

  
Marco laughed at that, and turned his attention to the window, watching the lamp posts zoom by. He felt eyes on him and turned to see that they, in fact, belonged to Jean. The burning in his face returned under the amber gaze.

  
“What?” he asked dumbly.

  
“You're really not going to roll it?”

  
Marco snorted at how flabbergasted Jean looked. The brunette was just on edge. If caught, they would both already be in deep shit for all of the rules they'd broken at that point, and Jean wanted to add paraphernalia into the mix. Marco rested his head against the car seat and looked out the window, down at the bag, then over at Jean. The blonde looked over at him again and smirked, and Marco realized something. Jean didn't smile like that very often, because he rarely smiled at all around other people. Marco wouldn't be so confident in this find if he wasn't side by side with his friend every day. His stomach went into a fluttering frenzy, and he cleared his throat as if to cover up the sound.

  
Marco unzipped the bag and got to work, and smiled when he heard Jean give a weak cry of celebration. Opening the baggie, the strong skunk-like smell wafted into Marco's face and Jean was already bouncing in his seat. The pair were no strangers to smoking, but that never seemed to stop Jean from being so enthusiastic about it when Marco accompanied him. All rolled and ready, Marco handed the joint to the other teen along with a lighter. Jean gladly snatched them and the brunette watched as he flicked the lighter, the flame mirroring in Jean's golden eyes. Without warning, he turned to Marco and blew the smoke in his face and cracked a grin.

  
“I appreciate it.” Marco snuffed, taking the joint and lighter in his hands. He took a hit and passed it back to Jean. “Where are we going?”

  
Jean shrugged, “It's a surprise.”

  
“Oh, another one?” Marco asked with mocking joy.

  
“Hey, when you go off to college and you're stuck studying and the only available fun is playing ping pong in the rec hall, you'll look back at these nights and be grateful for me.”

  
“I already am grateful for you.” Marco smiled to himself. “Besides, you're going to the same university as me. I'll have all the entertainment I'll ever need.”

  
“You sure about that?”

  
Marco furrowed his brows and looked over at his friend, “Yes. You'll get your acceptance letter any day now, and you'll drag me out to do crazy shit like this and I'll get to say 'told ya so'.”

  
Jean hummed in response, keeping his eyes on the road. Marco had gotten his letter for Trost University two weeks prior as well as a pretty decent scholarship. Jean, however, had applied months ahead of everyone else and still hadn't gotten any response. His grades weren't as good as Marco's, but he'd done everything else possible (extra-curricular activities, extra credit, clubs, etc..) to be accepted. He'd received both letters of acceptance and denial from several other universities, but Jean was set on going to the same one as his best friend, and the long wait was weighing heavily on him.

They pulled off the freeway and onto an empty street lined with stores and bars, closed for the night and giving a faint glow from interior lights. Dogwood trees in full bloom lined either side of the street, and Marco could smell the salty hair, mixed with flowers, getting thicker. He turned to Jean and sputtered when he saw the blonde staring at him, pupils wide under heavy lids. The fluttering returned to his stomach tenfold.

  
“H-hey keep your eyes on the road.”

  
“Have you ever noticed just how, like, beautiful you are?” Jean asked, eyes dragging to the road, just as he was told.

  
A raging blush occupied Marco from his neck up to his ears, and he cleared his throat. “What?”

  
“What?”

  
“What did you just say?”

  
“Uhhh.....” Jean looked over at him with bloodshot eyes. Marco wondered if his looked nearly as bad. “Hmm...I don't remember. What were we talking about?”

  
Marco's gaze bore into his friend as his mind went wild. Did Jean really just say that? Was he maybe so stoned that he possibly imagined it? Then again, Jean was equally high and probably didn't realize he was thinking out loud? Marco shook his head, more to clear it than to answer. There were too many theories running through his head for his current state of mind.

  
“Nothing.”

  
“Oh, okay. Cool, we're here.” Jean parked and cut the car's engine before getting out of the car.

  
Marco followed suit, shutting the door and taking in their surroundings. The boardwalk was to their left, creating a barrier between the car and sand. Waves rolled onto the shore, bringing with them the scent of seaweed and salt. Jean stepped onto the boardwalk's creaky wooden panels, motioning for Marco to follow. Before stepping onto the sand, Jean removed his shoes and rolled up his pants. Marco looked at him quizzically but did the same. They walked onto the sand, taking a seat a few yards away from the waves' reach. Jean took out his phone and flipped through it before it began playing some electronic indie song, and set it in his shirt pocket. Shifting slightly, he reached into his back pocket and produced the little black bag, and immediately began preparing their next spliff.

  
“Why the boardwalk?” Marco curled his knees to his chest and rested his cheek to them, facing his friend. “Don't get me wrong, you know I like it here. Just wondering.”

  
Jean raised the joint to his lips and took a hit, holding it in for some time before letting it out. “I just wanted to talk to you.” he shrugged.

  
“We always talk.”

  
“This time's different.”

  
Marco felt his stomach flip for the hundredth time that night, “Different how?”

  
Jean went into a coughing fit, but didn't answer when it stopped. Instead they smoked, listening to the smooth bass and vocals of the music. The song slowly faded off, and there was an eerie silence before the song started over again. Minutes felt like hours until Jean finally spoke again.

  
“You're my best friend, Marco.” Jean was dipping his slender fingers into the sand, making shapes and lines with no meaning.

Marco nodded, his lips pressed to a tight line. That was random. Cute, but random. “You're my best friend, too.”

  
“No matter what happens in the next year, we'll always be each others number one.”

  
Ah. Marco had an idea where Jean was going, “Of course.”

  
Jean let out a long sigh before sitting up and reaching into his back pocket. He produced a white envelope and flipped it over and over again in his hands. Marco's eyes widened and he looked from the envelope to Jean's eyes.

  
“Is that...?”

  
Jean nodded and shuffled close to Marco, shoulder to shoulder. Marco leaned forward as Jean's shaky hands worked to open it. He pulled out a single neatly folded piece of paper, stamped with Trost University's crest. The boys stared down at the paper which decided their fate, Jean crinkling it in his tense grip. Marco nudged Jean's shoulder and the blonde looked up at him. Marco could see the nerves all over his friend's face, so he gave him a reassuring smile.

  
“You read it.” Jean said, shoving the letter into Marco's hands.

  
Marco complied and began unfolding the paper. He was all-too aware of how equally shaky his hands were. Small puffs of warmth grazed his neck, and he glanced over to see Jean's was hovering over his shoulder, then leaning onto him as if for mental and physical support. Marco gave a weak chuckle and patted his friend's hand before squinting and reading the letter.

“Dear Mr. Kirschtein,” he began, “We have received your application to Trost University and after careful consideration...”

His eyes darted from left to right and back again as he read to himself. Then Marco went silent, closing the letter and staring out at the dark ocean. He felt like his stomach had dropped and was somewhere on the other side of the world. Jean leaned back and held the heels of his palms to his eyes.

  
“I didn't make it, did I? Damnit.”

  
Marco slowly turned his gaze to Jean, and he waited for Jean to look back at him. “Told ya so.” his voice was hoarse, but his faced cracked into a wide grin. Jean raised his head, eyes wide and bloodshot, but gleaming with hope. Marco threw his arms around him, and they fell into a laughing heap on the sand.

  
“You made it!”

  
“I made it!”

  
Marco showed him the line of the letter confirming this, and Jean embraced the brunette hard. They shouted and laughed into each others shoulders. Once their laughter died down, the two pried away from each other and sat back up. Jean opened up the letter and read those lines again and again, hardly able to grasp that he would be with his friend for four more years.

  
His resolve didn't last long, and his smile quickly turned to lips pressed to a tight line. That didn't go unnoticed by Marco. “Jean, what's wrong?”

  
Jean folded the paper and put it in his back pocket, his eyes locked onto the sand in front of them. He licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. Marco noted his friend displaying three out of four of his nervous habits all at once, so he waited for Jean to speak. Jean turned his head to Marco, but barely kept eye contact.

  
“I sort of...promised myself I'd do something if I was accepted. I just didn't think it would actually happen.” His voice broke off at the end.

  
“And what was that?” Marco looked down at Jean's hands twisting around each other. The fourth sign.

  
“I-I just,” he bit his lip, brows furrowed together as he tried to find the right words, “You see, I've sort of always-no, shit, uh...fuck it.”

  
Amber eyes darted up to meet his, and before Marco could even process what happened, he was pushed onto his back, a weight on his chest, a hot mouth on his. The brunette gasped into the sudden kiss when Jean's tongue ran along his bottom lip. He parted his lips and relished the intruding warmth in his mouth. Reaching up with one hand, Marco ran his fingers through the short undercut of Jean's hair, the other moved to the younger boy's waist to pull him closer. Marco's head was swimming, his heart pounding along with Jean's as he sucked the blonde's lower lip.

  
Jean pulled away and looked down at the brunette with liquid gold eyes, panting lightly. “Marco?” he whispered, surprised to find his feelings were requited.

  
Marco nodded, feeling the goofy wide smile on his own face, and pulled him down for another kiss, this time more gracefully. Jean pulled away again for a fraction of a second to pepper Marco's face with kisses, Marco giggling beneath him. Jean was laughing, too, when he lightly pressed their foreheads against each other. Marco saw how red in the face his friend was and became suddenly aware of the heat in his face.

  
Jean rolled off of Marco, laying on his back and looking up at the night sky, side by side with the brunette. He reached over and entwined their fingers, making Marco glance over at him. Both boys were grinning ear to ear.

  
“This is so weird. But, like, cool weird.” Jean said, followed by a short laugh.

  
“I know. How long have you...?”

  
Marco felt their hands stir when Jean shrugged, “Not that long.” he paused, then, “Seventh grade, maybe?”

  
The brunette quickly propped himself onto his elbow, their hands still bound together. “Jean, that's five years!” Even in the dark, he could see how beet-red his comment made the blonde. “Would you like to know how long I've liked you?”

  
Jean nodded, watching Marco from the corner of his eye.

  
“Sixth grade.”

  
It was Jean's turn to sit up. “Are you telling me that you've liked me for six years and never said anything?”

  
Marco quirked a brow. “I could say the same to you.”

  
Jean opened his mouth and snapped his jaw shut before speaking again. “I wanted to. Plenty of times, actually. I just didn't think you'd ever feel that way towards me.” he said simply.

  
Marco gave him a smile and leaned over, gently pressing his lips to the other boy's lips. He laughed when Jean sputtered, then returned to his former position on his back to gaze up at the stars. The freckled boy stole a few glances at his friend, often catching each others eyes and then smiling like dorks. They'd inched closer to each other at some point-Marco wasn't sure when- until his head was resting on Jean's chest, and the blonde had draped his arm around the others waist. He sighed deeply and nuzzled into his chest, taking in the broken beats of the music and Jean's calm and even breathing. In the moment, Marco was all sorts of high. He couldn't keep the smile off of his face.

 

***

  
Yawning deeply, Marco stretched his limbs out and blinked open his eyes to see two beady ones staring back, the right one looking off to the side. He yelped and shuffles himself backwards, then frowned as he scooted forward and leaned down to look at the crab that had decided it would also rest on Jean's chest as he snored softly. Marco bit back a laugh at the oblivious teen and carefully relocated the crustacean. A warm smile returned to his face as he gazed down at the blonde, reflecting on the happenings only a few hours ago, and wondered how their futures would unfold.

  
He dug his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone. After finding it he clicked the home button and took in a sharp, salty breath. They'd managed to sleep until five in the morning; and had to be at school in two hours. Marco was on Jean in a second, shaking the boy relentlessly until he was sitting up, hair sticking in all directions and peppered with sand.  
“Jesus, Marco, what's your malfunction?” he whined, running his fingers through his wild mane.

  
“When does your dad wake up?”

  
“I don't know, mad early. Six, I think.” he yawned, “Why?”

  
“Six, you think...” Marco mumbled, eyes wide. “We have less than an hour to get that car and our asses home before our parents wake up.”

  
Jean stared at Marco with sleepy eyes and blinked a few times before turning to look out at the ocean. Just as the brunette thought he was taking the situation rather lightly, Jean whipped his head back to face Marco, eyes wide and hands already scrambling to gather their things.

  
“Shit! Shit, Marco, we gotta get going now!”

  
Marco rolled his eyes and the two bolted back to the parking lot, and Jean started undressing. “What are you doing?”

  
“Can't have sand in the car. Now, strip.” Jean said, leaning over and shaking the sand out of his hair. Marco groaned and undressed down to his boxers and undershirt. Jean popped the trunk and they threw their clothes in before getting into the car. The freckled boy looked over at his friend, who wore the same semi-horrified expression.

  
“It still reeks of pot in here.”

  
“Fucking fuck!” Jean moaned, resting his head on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and sat up. “It's okay. It's fine. Just be calm, Marco.”

  
Marco arched an eyebrow, “I am cal-”

  
Jean had already begun rolling down every possible window, “We now have forty minutes to air freshen the shit out of this car, get you home, and not get me killed.”

  
“Sounds about right.”

  
The two exchange a nod and Jean starts the car, then head for the freeway.

 

***

 

After a quick stop at a twenty-four hour station, the two teens were on Marco's street, the freckled boy frantically spraying the air freshener in the backseat of the car (and in their lungs despite all the windows still being down). He squeezed himself back up into the front passenger seat, ignoring Jean's raspy-morning voice telling him not to put his feet on the leather. The two went silent along with the car's engine as Jean parked across the street of the freckled teen's house, peering into the first floor's windows to spot any movements.

  
“No one will be up for another hour or so.” Marco breathed. “I'll get my clothes another time?”

  
Jean nodded and turned to his friend. His hands had long since abandoned the wheel, fiddling in his lap instead. Marco watched him for a moment, not exactly knowing what he should expect. The two had only just found out about each others feelings towards each other that morning. The brunette nodded again, more to himself than to Jean, and opened the car door.

“W-wait, Marco!” Marco felt a hand form an iron grip around his bicep before he was yanked back into the car. He turned to question the sudden action when his lips and teeth collided rather painfully against Jean's. They immediately pulled apart, Marco brought his hand to his mouth and Jean looked down as he turned a deep crimson.

  
“Ah, shit! Sorry, I just,” the blonde started, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck, “Ugh, I suck at this. I'm sorry.”

Marco giggled from behind his hand and reached out to cup Jean's face and bring him in for a smoother and much less violent kiss. The blonde's shoulders relaxed and he leaned into the kiss, bringing his hand up to run through the brunette's thick hair. Marco sat back and licked his lips, smiling at the dazed look on Jean's face.

  
“Got it?”

  
“Yeah.” Jean leaned forward again and pressed his lips to the brunette's, pinning him against the car door. Marco had a feeling he'd have to teach the other boy at least some self control in the near future. The brunette slid his tongue along Jean's lips before delving into the other teen's hot mouth. Jean moaned into the kiss as he moved his tongue against Marco's, inching himself closer and closer until he was almost on the older boy's lap. They pulled away with a 'smack' and Marco shot up his index finger, pressing it against Jean's lips. The blonde looked a hair more than disapproving.

  
“That was in case your dad kills you. Now, get going.” The brunette laughed, retreating from the car and running across the street, Jean's eyes on him the whole time. Marco turned to give him a small wave and blushing smile before swiftly climbing up the drainpipe to his bedroom. Jean sighed and raised his fingers to his lips, which still tingled, and smirked as he started the car. He was already five minutes late.

 

***

 

That day in school, Marco met up with Jean after first period class. He learned that the other boy had been put on 'house arrest' for two weeks; sentenced to no media outlets and daily repetitive chores. Marco tried to convince Jean to let him take at least some of the blame, but Jean only shook his head and smiled, declaring that night had totally been worth his punishment.

Two nights later, Jean was throwing pebbles at Marco's bedroom window again. The brunette smiled as he rolled out of bed and walked across the room. He lifted the window and looked down at the boy with two-toned hair waiting below.

  
“Get out here already!” he pointed sharply at the ground but his grin didn't falter.

  
“Be right down.” Marco whispered back, smiling just as wide.

  
He would have four more years of Jean Kirschtein.

**Author's Note:**

> I finally wrote (AND finished) a one-shot!! Aaaahhhyesss small accomplishments!  
> I'm still working on 'Upon a Dream' but I HAD to get this out of my brain because it was nagging at me.
> 
> Here are the songs that inspired me to write this (not the lyrics per say, just the gist of the songs)
> 
> The Dirty Heads - Lay Me Down  
> Grouplove - Ways To Go  
> Fitz and the Tantrums - The Walker  
> Hippie Sabotage - Stay High  
> Purity Ring - Lofticries  
> Madcon - Beggin'
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
